Careless
by tankygirl
Summary: Serena cares. Sabrina doesn't.
1. Chapter 1

**A short little ficlet_. _I don't know if I'll continue it, but it ties into just after 6x01. Something to get me back into the swing of writing :p Lyrics belong to Pink.**

_Doctor, doctor won't you please prescribe me something?_

_A day in the life of someone else?_

* * *

There's this part in _Inside _where Sabrina, high on God only knows what, giggles in the face of Dylan, Claire and the rest as they valiantly try to save her from herself.

_The hair that hangs limply around her face is twisted around itself, like a reflection of her doped up thoughts and morals as her chiming laughter rises into the heavy atmosphere. _

"_You really don't get it, do you? I don't care how you feel or what you think. I don't care.." the sharp sound of her mirth spits in the face of their compassion and she says it with a self-absorbed freedom rather than sadness, "about you." _

_Dylan feels Claire's fingers tighten around his own._

_Sabrina's never cared about anything._

* * *

Somewhere in the two…three…four?...somewhere in the time she spent drugged out of her brain, she reread his stupid fucking book. But this time she is tied into that paragraph, it wraps itself around her brain and her heart and she can't read past it or escape it.

_Sabrina's never cared about anything._

The violent, brutal ache from her characterisation subsided a while back, and as she lies in a hotel room one night somewhere in Wisconsin, Serena realises that might be the least accurate line in the book.

Serena cares about Lily, who is so quick to believe the worst in her, William who's done nothing but be a constant source of hurt and disappointment. She cares about Chuck and Nate and Eric, about Rufus and hell, even Jenny some days. She cares about work and school and animal cruelty, global warming and next seasons Loubitons. She cares about Dan and Blair.

Blair, who flounced around Manhattan with the love of Serena's life in tow before she got bored and slunk back to Chuck. Blair, who kissed him before her while her grandmother lay dying a few rooms away. Who never forgets and never forgives and tears at her for every little thing she's ever done wrong before making her crawl, bleeding her for forgiveness. But even crawling and bleeding is better than _I'll never have to see you again._

Nothing makes her heart rend and writhe more than _I'll never have to see you again._

Serena cares.

They don't.

* * *

Serena tells him she's got things in her past, darkdanktwisted things, and he barely bats an eyelash 'don't we all?' Steven's a little bit of every man she's ever _really _liked; Nate's easy smile, the adult steadfastness of Ben, every now and then a cheeky smirk that reminds her ever so slightly of Carter. But nothing, at all, like Dan.

She likes that.

She likes Steven.

But Serena van der Woodsen knows Serena van der Woodsen, and she will inevitably wreak havoc on this like she does everything else. Someone will leave and someone will hurt and irrespective of which role she plays it will eat into her soul. Because Serena van der Woodsen cares too much.

_Sabrina's never cared about anything._

* * *

Blair doesn't understand. She huffs and stalks away, contrition from moments before evaporated in the heat of her indignance and hurt and wounded pride. Serena lets her walk away because she is weary of running after Blair; of tugging at her hand and praying she'll deign to listen. She thinks Serena is bitter and begrudging.

She's not.

She forgives Blair. The _painangerguilt _twist around eachother and ensconce her, but they aren't hers anymore. And when Dan's doe eyes meet her own, the flutter of her heart and catch in the back of her throat aren't hers either. She doesn't want them, she doesn't need them, and she doesn't care about them.

Serena might.

But Sabrina's never cared about anything.


	2. Chapter 2

**I am much more inclined to write Serena's POV than Dan's, but here is my attempt. This was actually inspired by a conversation with chiba, another DS writer I'm sure everyone knows. Thanks for the reviews, they keep me motivated :)**

There's this part in _Inside_ where Dylan is sitting in the family suite overlooking the lights of the city- one of the perks of his father's token marriage status- and wrangles with the most peculiar, senseless of feelings.

_The walk-in robe is open enough so shadows are cast across hanger after hanger, row after row of Armani, Gucci, Versace, other names Dylan once knew only from billboards and magazines. He only showered a few hours ago but already fresh towels lay at the foot of his bed and the bathroom is clear of steam and spills._

_There's a watch worth a small car on his desk, shoes who've seen more miles in shipping than they ever will in use, cufflinks and cologne, sunglasses, maids, butlers and drivers and servants and more. So much. More things than Dylan's ever been surrounded by in his entire life, enough things to drown in. _

_And it's the queerest thing._

_He's never felt more empty._

It was written to deride the materialism of the Upper East Side, a moment where Dylan and the readers truly appreciate how little their secular world is worth. It is supposed to show that Dylan had more in Brooklyn than he ever had across the bridge.

Dan sits in the loft, surrounded by very little by the standards of that passage. There's a few plaid and plain shirts in the draw, a corduroy jacket thrown over a chair, clean jeans floating around…somewhere. All of the things in the loft might add up to the cost of a small car. A very shitty, unreliable small car. There's not a lot of things, and not a lot of people. Blair's gone _(Chuck) _and Serena's gone _(Steven)_ and Rufus' gone _(ugh…Ivy…)_ and Dan's not really sure how he became so lonely.

So much emptiness. Enough emptiness to drown in.

* * *

Georgina is at him incessantly, but he really doesn't count her as company and her presence seems to highlight how tragic his life is right now. It's like she has a sixth sense for his misery and shows up when he is most corruptible. Or so he tells himself, he's really enjoying blaming other people for his failings right now.

Because, it's Blair's fault their relationship failed. Blair chose Chuck and Blair chose Louis, Blair wanted _moremoremore _and despite his best efforts he could never give it to her. He threw everything he had into it, he catered to her whims and her insecurities and bent over backwards to be the person she wanted. And by the time he had become that person, she was gone and all she left was this warped, false unprincipled Dan Humphrey. This person he doesn't know.

_See! _His brain says to itself, _Blair created that person, and together you destroyed all the good things in your life._ That person heard Serena say she loved him _always have always will_, and that person saw Blair through Serena's pain. That person is single-minded and careless and destructive. That person hurt the one person in his life he'd sworn to her and himself he'd always be there for.

_Serena did that! _He tells himself, _she wanted to break you and Blair up, she taped you together, she pushed you to this too! _Yes! Serena planted false doubt about Blair wanting Chuck.

_Because it's not like Blair actually _did _want Chuck._

Serena tricked him into sleeping with her, she got him drunk and dropped her dress and he's a little hazy on what she did between that and running her knee up his side.

_And it's not like he _wanted _to sleep with Serena, to feel the generous sweep of her curves against him, to run his hands over the velvet skin of her thighs._

It's all so hideously interwoven, confusing and messy and painful, and Dan's really not sure how to separate it all in his brain. All he knows for certain is he's bitter over Blair and disappointed in Serena and has such a sucking vacuum of loss-for whom he isn't sure- that when he sees them both happy it's easier to tell himself they wrought this upon him. Because he's so fucking miserable, and cannot reconcile the idea that he's done this to himself.

* * *

Dan remembers telling Serena he was hardest on himself, that Dylan Hunter sacrificed his principles and sold out to the decadence of the Upper East Side. He remembers _no-one's ever looked me the way you just did _and _I wasn't wrong to believe in you_ and _I always will. I don't want to be your friend Blair, I want more _and _you'll still have me _are in there too. Somewhere between the two, he's lost himself. He's not who he used to be.

He's Dylan Hunter. And it's empty.


	3. Chapter 3

**Set after 6x04. A lot of this is my understanding of Dan and Serena at the moment, creative liberties taken of course :p Reviews are greatly appreciated.**

There are a lot of unsavory things going on that list. Serena knows she's made questionable decisions (more than a few) and she knows a reasonable number were romantic (way more than a few). There's Nate and Dan, Dan again then Gabriel, Carter, Nate again, there's Ben and Tripp and somewhere in there Dan happened a few more times. It's messy and ugly and she's not ashamed of it exactly, but some part of her wants to keep it all to herself. But _this_ is who she is_, this_ is who she wants to be. This person is mature and strong and hasn't been hurt or betrayed or torn by the people she loves. This person doesn't care.

But despite herself, as she lines it all up in her brain to tell Steven, a part of her wraps itself around that night with Dan and hides it, buries it, _protects it._ Serena's not sure why that moment is so raw, so vulnerable, but the more she thinks about it the more she decides it's to protect her relationship with Steven. Because God forbid Steven should feel as though he's some sort of rebound from Dan. God forbid Steven should think that she's still in love with Dan.

Because she's not.

* * *

The article on Nate is scathing. It's not untrue but it is unkind, and as she sits down across from Dan Serena wonders if he truly wrote it; it's so brutal, so violent, so…not Dan.

Or so she thought.

But he opens his mouth and words that aren't his flow out of it. It's vaguely reminiscent of _I'll never have to see you again _and _this is a typical shallow cry for attention_ and _Nate huh, I guess bad history repeats itself. _Dan's always had that attitude, that snide, cutting edge to his nature, but it's something he did when hurt. And as he sunders and tears at her further, Serena feels her anger and indignance slip through hers fingers, because she knows him well enough to see beneath this.

All she can feel is sadness.

Dan is angry and Dan is bitter, wounded, and like a wounded bull he is thrashing and raging and destroying everything around him in a chaotic maelstrom of feelings. Serena understands it. She's been that raging bull. She may not be cruel and she may not be cutting, but she knows destruction, and this path is going to destroy Dan.

Her compassion stretches thin and she walks out, but when he calls her name and she pauses for him, there's this boy looking at her for a split second, this sad, hurt boy that makes her feel sixteen again. One flippant comment and he's gone again, squashed beneath this new Dan Humphrey. This Dam Humphrey she doesn't know. This Dan Humphrey she doesn't love.

Not that she loves _any_ Dan Humphrey.

* * *

Serena looks at the video. For all her mistakes, for that entire exhaustive list, there's not much she regrets. But recording that night, she regrets that. That part of her heart that's protecting that memory aches and begs her not to give up, not to box away her feelings and shove them away. Her thumb hovers above the delete option, and she feels all her _lovehurthope_ for Dan attach itself to this gesture. This act of letting go.

She can do this. She must. Because it's not a big deal. Because she does _not_ love Dan Humphrey.

* * *

When she lays in bed that night, behind closed eyes Serena hears Dan's voice floating around in her head. It's ruthless and cold, it doesn't care about anyone or anything, and that sadness seeps back into her mind.

_What brought you such grief and bitterness to make you this way? What happened to you, Dan Humphrey?_

Not that she cares.

Because she does not love Dan Humphrey.

_She doesn't love Dan Humphrey, she doesn't love Dan Humphrey, she doesn't love Dan Humphrey. _


	4. Chapter 4

**Okay, it's been a while. I lost a lot of writing momentum, and am hopefully getting back into it. Thankyou to anyone who still reads and reviews my stories after such a long time, it means a lot to me and gives me the push to even entertain the thought of writing :)**

There's this part in Inside where at the very height of decadent life, Dylan hits rock bottom. He has everything and he has no-one, because somehow the corruption of the Upper East Side consumes outsiders in a way is doesn't those born into it.

_Whatever is coursing through his veins is silk, it's soft and smooth and rich and the world becomes so incredibly fluid Dylan feels it glide around him, past him, through him. Its insidious warmth fills the cavernous emptiness within and the world tips and turns and darkens at the edges of his sight, lonely boy lonely boy LONELY BOY_

A name given to him by the Upper East Side, a name he has resented and hated and ultimately justified.

He's sitting in a bar somewhere in Manhatten- he stopped keeping track of them after he poured himself into the third one this evening- nursing something dark and bitter. His wayward thoughts run in slowly maddening circles, and he can feel the vacuous space within him steadily making itself apparent as it has been doing for the last few weeks. It's aching and nagging and consuming, and he feels like a building that has been gutted by fire. The fire of revenge, of spite and malice that burned everything that made his life full in a passionate and unwavering blaze of hurt, that felt so warm and fulfilling and justified. Dan fed it with dwellings and ruminations of Blair and Chuck, of Nate and Rufus and _Serenaserenaserena_, with a chapter on Blair and a chapter on Chuck, with cheques from Vanity Fair and the adulation of women.

But all things come to an end, and to his despair, anger started to drain from him. The kindling of his internal fire that wanted to burnburnburn the Upper East Side began to slip away, and the more it did, the more room was made for far less productive emotions

_Loneliness._

_Misery._

Regret.

It isn't for writing the articles, exactly. It feels deeper than that, because the part of Dan that still seems sane and grounded staunchly defends the chapters he's written. Except maybe Nate's. This feels more permanent and gradual, this is sneaky and cruel and he knows exactly when this began.

…_when he calls her name and she pauses for him, there's this boy looking at her for a spilt second, this sad, hurt boy that makes her feel sixteen again. One flippant comment and he's gone again, squashed beneath this new Dan Humphrey…_

He saw her, in that moment, in a way he had forgotten how to see her. Hurt and open and forgiving, the girl who made his stomach flutter when she passed him in the hall at school, who accepted him and loved him _even when he didn't deserve it_ who looked at his blistering bitterness in that moment, and saw the sadness rolling beneath it.

Serena had soothed him for that moment, and that break in momentum was all that was needed. Ever since that day Dan had felt his fire dwindling. Ever since that day Dan felt the cold ache of regret.

He signals the bartender, who wordlessly refills his glass. The world is teetering wildly even when seated, and he's starting to lose time between moments of drunken clarity. Dan sees the sideways look of the staff and thinks _maybe it's a time…a good time….maybe it's a good time to go…_ He tips the entire glass of something tasteless-he lost sensation to his face a while ago- back and slides gracelessly off the stool. The world lurches violently to the left and he catches himself too firmly on the bar, a jarring sensation making itself known up his forearm. Off in the distance somewhere a disembodied voice, _whoa, sir? Sir? Maybe you should sit down.._ That's ridiculous, he's just been sitting down for the past….ages, and besides, the staff are looking at him funny. Dan's foot takes a purposeful step forward, but his body sways sideways, and as he tries to catch himself the disembodied voice is the last thing he's aware of, _sir? Is there someone we can call?_

If he were able, he would answer.

No.

There's no-one.

He has no-one.

* * *

She's not the first person they call, but she's the first person that picks up. Serena steps gingerly into the bar- empty, it being an obscene hour on a Tuesday morning-and the frazzled yet composed bartender gives her a smile of immense gratitude.

"So sorry to drag you out of bed Miss, but he's in a bad way."

He doesn't know the half of it.

Serena smiles gently at him, a fondness showing on her face. Countless bartenders had been kind enough to call help for her in the past, and countless others hadn't bothered. She appreciates this man. "Don't be sorry."

She spies him in one of the booths, slumped in what has to be an uncomfortable position. Serena inches forward slowly, feeling like she shouldn't be so close, like Dan wouldn't want her this close. A soft sigh escapes her, and she feels the slightest sting of regret; he looks _bad_, not just _in a bad way_. His cheekbones stand out more through his skin that she's comfortable with, his skin pale except the bruised patches beneath his eyes. His curls are unkempt falling around his face, and it looks like he hasn't shaved in a few days. Asleep like this, he looks so much like the Dan Humphrey she loves. _Loved, _she reminds herself. _Loved loved loved. _Gone is the bitterness and the cold quality of his expression, gone is the scathing edge to his words and steely aspect of his gaze. In this moment he is just lonely boy, Dan Humphrey from Brooklyn who once loved Serena Van der Woodsen, who has been beaten, battered and bruised by the world.

_She rolls over and fumbles for her phone as it vibrates against the drawers, and Steven remains facing away from her. They'd had a spat before bed about Sage for the umpteenth time, and when Dan's name stands out against the backlight of her phone it isn't thoughts of Steven Spence that give her pause. _

_Remember, _Sabrina's never cared about anything.

_It rings insistently in her hand, and amongst the maelstrom of feelings and memories and confused responses that image of him in the café rises above. The broken brown eyes, clinging to anger because it's easier to be angry than be hurt, the gentle way her name leaves his lips, and the brutal return of the _new _Dan Humphrey moments later._

What happened to you, Dan Humphrey?

_She slides her thumb over the answer button and slinks deftly from the bedroom._

Serena sighs again, bringing her fingertips of the left hand up to his face gently, and speaks to the bartender without looking at him, "Please, could you call us a cab?"


End file.
